#for graha it was in ishgard after 5.3

[rowanul-tyr]

FFXIV Polyamory Week - Day 1 - Sleeping positions

Hellooooo here I come for polyship week!

Turns out I already had this shot that fit the prompt perfectly (sorry for cheating that way, it WILL happen again). Usually Rowan is in the middle of the pile, but Estinien has been in the middle before--it uh. Did not go well for him dealing with a lot of purring. (Please look forward to that in the ot3 fic, haha).

[nadana-vhet]

“Can I have this dance?” For Ahmi

Rating: General Audiences WoLExarch, post-5.3. P.S. based the dress of this pretty as hell number.

“Can I have this dance?” 

It was the introduction to every old friend and missed face that she had heard for the past two hours. Lyse, Arenvald, Edmont, Artoriel… Aymeric and Tataru had promised to only hold a party for their friends, but she was reminded how many of them the Scions had. She had. 

The Lord-Commander and Tataru exchanged a mountain of letters arguing whether to hold the party in Ishgard or Revenant's Toll, but as always, Tataru had gotten her way and even convinced their busy friend to come a few days early and assist her in setting up the festivities. We can’t have our friends, still weak from traversing worlds, setting up a party that’s meant to celebrate their safe return!

Ahmi had been passed around and finally landed in step with Aymeric, who swept her away from Biggs. “But you must tell me more about those dwarven fellows you met!” the clumsy engineer called out to their Warrior as she was swept away again.

“Of course!” she returned with a smile before returning to Aymeric, flashing a bright smile at him as they began to chatter away above the music about what they had been up to. As always, Ahmi did most of the talking, not for any reason of importance, but because it was much more exciting to talk about what happened on the First compared to what nobleman had been snubbed at the most recent restoration meeting.

G’raha sat at a table, one of many pushed to the walls of the Rising Stones to make room for dancing and socializing. Krile sat next to him, the pair drinking in comfortable silence as they watched everyone catch up and chatter amongst themselves. Neither of them were much for parties, so like old times in the Studium, they stuck together.

“Raha, you’ve been staring at her all night. Go dance with her!” Krile pat his shoulder forcefully, her insistence heightened by the fact that she was on her third drink.

“Krile! Could you say that any louder? ” G’raha blushed, hiding his face in the wine he had been sipping on. He took a much longer swig after her comment, trying to drown his embarrassment as she continued to tease him. “Besides, can’t you see she’s dancing with Ser Aymeric?”

“Are you jealous, Raha?” Krile chuckled with a knowing grin. G’raha would have better described it as shit-eating.

“N-no! He’s just… well-” G’raha sighed, his ears pressing back against his head, “he’s very handsome, and accomplished. They look good together,” he grumbled in defeat.

Krile rolled her eyes, “Well, I suppose she does have a thing for easily-flustered workaholics. But do you know who’s even better at that then the Lord Commander?”

“Who-”

“You, dumbass. Now go!”

G’raha didn’t even have time to drag himself out of his chair before the object of their conversation had appeared in front of him, as if his longing had summoned her by magic. Oh, gods, did she hear us?

“G’raha! Come dance with me, it’s Scion tradition!” she called over the music, holding out her hand and patiently waiting for him to stand and join her on the dance floor. She looked absolutely opulent, adorned in a gown tailored to fit her perfectly, with the fabric hanging off her shoulders and exposing the various moles that dotted her skin. 

“I, uh - okay!” he stuttered, putting down his glass of wine and standing to join her. He stumbled a bit as he got his bearings, still not used to his new old body. 

Krile watched smugly as the two danced together, silently considering how well they complimented each other. The moon guided the sun into the dawn, with Ahmi helping G’raha learn the steps until they had practically molded into one. Krile leaned over and took a sip of Graha’s wine, scrunching her nose at how overwhelmingly sweet it was. “Scion tradition my ass,” she muttered to herself.